Peril in Paris
by Julieann Dreamer
Summary: While in France picking up the first of the M.A.S.K. vehicles, Matt Trakker finds himself in a desperate battle with Venom for the city of Paris. Story 2 of the "Masters of Illusion" series.
1. Chapter 1

The gentle spinning of the ceiling paddle fan sent soft pulses of warm humid air down on Miles Mayhem's face, augmented by a comforting breeze blowing in through the open veranda doors. A bird hopped along the white stucco retaining wall into a tree-lined garden. The brightly colored walls of the villa welcomed its occupants to relax and enjoy themselves.

And Miles hate it for one specific reason: his immobility.

All he did was read, sleep, and work with the private therapist as he tried to regain his strength. The twinging in his ribs had lessened to the point he could breathe easier, but any wrong move and they let him know about it. The acid burn to his right leg had been the worse, eating through part of the muscle on his calf in a narrow but very deep channel. Caused by a mask currently undergoing a dramatic redesign by one of his contract scientists. The value of the acid he didn't doubt, but there had to be safe control.

The design and building of his infrastructure were the only bright spot in the forced convalescence. Plenty of time to think and plan his new organization, to choose what direction he really wanted to head in. The recruiting needs crystallized. Dagger worked willingly and hard, but Miles knew he needed more intelligence from which to draw off of and a wider set of skills. Finding the right people would be key and would be the most difficult.

"A moment, sir?" A quiet voice asked from the doorway into the den.

Miles looked over to see Ortega Mendus, a nondescript man in his middle fifties with a balding head, slight paunch and a mind like a steel trap. He'd accepted a previous offer to join his organization just after Miles' release from the hospital. Non-threatening, but effective, the man had quickly helped organize Miles vision, making new contacts, firming up old ones.

Miles waved him in as he picked up a fruit drink. "News on the vehicle design?"

"No sir, not yet. I've just heard that Columbia and South Africa have frozen the bank assets of the United Freedom Front. We could not transfer the funds out in time." He adjusted his glasses as he looked down at the pad of paper in his hands. "However, our other transfers did go through."

"Only two failures, but with the larger accounts." Miles summarized, running the figures through his head from memory.

"This leaves us with a deficit for our planned expansion," Mr. Mendus said. "We need to expand our cash flow."

"Make a list of ideas and I'll do the same. I also want to see a time-line indicating the points at which we may run into trouble."

Mr. Mendus gave a quick nod and left the room.

The down-side of any organization: money. Miles knew that if he wished to hire good people, he needed to have the cash to pay them well. Money maintained loyalty and inspired hard work.

He picked up the pad of paper next to him and began scribbling notes down. The heat of the day relaxed him, slowly lulling the logical portion of his brain to sleep.

Miles set his fruit drink and notepad down and picked up one of the many books sitting on a short table next to him. His brain paused and then switched to French as he started the new book. The tale involved the efforts of the French Resistance to hide national treasures during World War II, told in the rough words of one of the last members of an isolated core, written not long before he died.

Three chapters in he dozed off. His dreams strayed from one fractured memory to the next, as they often did when he took pain medication.

With a start he awoke, his mind completely clear. The book rested on his chest. He picked it up again, flipping back through the pages he'd previously read. Miles then carefully examined several casually mentioned passages.

Picking up the notepad, he made one more note at the bottom of the list of money-making ideas and underlined it twice.

xoxoxoxoxox

"When you said you had a plan, I thought you were crazy," Peter Kwon said, his gently slanting Asian eyes crinkling in amusement. He looked around the partially completed cavern before looking back at Matt Trakker, "Now I know you're insane."

Matt couldn't help but laugh, "And yet, you stick around."

"A chance to beat Miles Mayhem at his own game? I wouldn't be anywhere else! Helping with the design of the facility is the least I can do," Peter said. He tapped the brace on his right knee with his cane, "If I could do more, I would."

A robot moved down the wall and then rolled across the floor to a maintenance node. Bruce Sato crouched over one of the robots, its back cover flipped up on a hinge, looking intently inside.

"Any ideas about the gas station?" Bruce asked.

Matt shook his head. "Not yet, but we have a little time."

"Not at the rate these little guys are progressing." Bruce looked up and smiled while turning a screwdriver to tighten down a replaced module. "The robotics are sure to be a huge help to your mining interests."

Matt looked up into the cavern, noting in the bright construction lights the smooth walls with a line of wall-clinging robots, and then jagged and rough rock above them. "I'm surprised at the rate of their progress."

"This is nothing. One mile of track is already laid out towards the mansion. By the end of the week we'll start concrete reinforcing the walls," Peter said. He pointed towards the ceiling, "I'm still curious about this chamber you want at the top of this cavern. Why not use one of the other rooms?"

"Don't you want to make use of the missile lifting mechanism? The thing is old, but it still works." Matt looked back at the cordoned-off black pit sitting in the middle of the room. Steel supports and mechanisms still lined the relic of the Cold War. His face sobered. "I'm concerned about security. There will be only one way to get into the recharging chamber. It's one of the few edges we have on Mayhem."

"Which explains the outside base defense measures," Peter said, quickly taking note of the change in emotion.

"More than that," Bruce added, "If Venom find us, we need time to evacuate the most sensitive items first. Having the ability to close off and defend the base will allow that to happen."

"I'm still waiting to hear a recharging chamber for what," Peter said with a spark in his eyes.

Matt smiled, "Once we figure out the exact configuration needed, you'll have your answer."

"Who would have thought a bird would learn to become a mole." Bruce said as he flipped the back covering down on the robot and screwed it tightly shut.

Setting it on the floor, the robot scurried off to its home module for instructions. A moment later it had two reinforced tubes connected to its back and began climbing one of the walls.

Alex came out of one of the few completed rooms, "I'll be thankful when we have proper lighting in here. Any news about the scallywag?"

Matt sighed, "Mayhem is laying low. Rumors have him somewhere in Africa."

"Your new network of informants is working well," Peter noted.

"Then it's unlikely he'll be apprehended before recovering sufficiently to cause more trouble," Bruce said, standing up to putting his tools away.

Alex put his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels, "Meanwhile you can be sure he'll be putting together his new technology base. Mayhem never remains idle."

"Right, Alex. Which is why we need to be prepared for when Miles pokes his head out of whatever hole he's hiding in," Matt said. He smiled wickedly, "And your first design will soon come to its new home, Bruce."

Bruce grinned, "I can't wait to see it. The new garage is ready."

Alex nodded back at the room from where he'd come, "The computer system is coming along nicely. Emily's system was quite modular. We should be ready for test connections with your new communication satellite network within the month. That leaves the new logic modules the next big hurdle."

"And then there are the vehicles and other equipment." Bruce added.

Matt watched Bruce as he rolled a toolbox out of the away, noting how exhausted even his simple movements appeared. On top of the exhaustion from relocating his home and starting a new job with one of Matt's toy company, the added pressure of working to get the base and equipment together was taking its toll.

Taking its toll on all of them.

Matt mused, "I think it's obvious none of us can do this full time. We need help. Time to actively recruit other specialists."

Alex got a sparkle in his eyes, "Sounds like Mobile Armored Strike Kommand is on its way to becoming a reality."

Bruce chuckled, "Venom, beware."

"I wish I could help more in that regard. The heart and mind are willing, the body…not so much." Peter tapped his cane against his knee with a shake of his head.

Matt put a hand on his shoulder, saying earnestly, "Your help has been invaluable. We wouldn't be this far without you."

Matt's watch beeped, and Peter smiled slightly, "I think it's time for Scott to come home."

Matt looked down at the watch finding Peter's observation to be completely correct. The day had flown by. With the drive back to the mansion he would barely get there before the school bus, making him wish for an operational rail-car even more.

"Don't work too late tonight. We all need our sleep," Matt said to them as he grabbed his suit jacket.

"I'll probably be here late," Peter admitted, "But I want the next few projects programmed into the robots before I leave to visit Dad. I'll see you again when you get back from France."

"Enjoy your long weekends," Matt said before heading out of the room.

Matt passed through the large cavern that would soon be the garage for the vehicles. The room sat complete, with even the tool and machining area populated with the latest technology. His footsteps echoed off the walls, making it feel even more lonely and deserted.

If all went well, at least one of the floor-marked slots would soon house a vehicle.

On the other side of a bulkhead sat the boarded-up gas station. Light streamed through the wooden slats over the windows, illuminating dusty floors, scattered garbage and the occasional left-behind tools and old merchandise. He definitely needed to find someone reliable who could work in it, to maintain the illusion of a working gas-station. Hopefully, someone who could use the spare time between customers to work on the Mask vehicles, perhaps who could even help build new ones.

Unfortunately, no names or faces came to mind. Finding the right people would most likely prove far more difficult than the technology side of the group. He knew he would need to keep his eyes open for unusual and special opportunities. Bringing in the wrong person could destroy everything. He could feel the pressure building inside, pale in comparison with selecting company CEO's. His ability to find the right people could affect the whole world.

The need for security haunted him. Miles proved in the past he enjoyed meting out revenge. Matt's mind immediately went to Scott, Alex's nieces, Bruce's large extended family, and Peter's father. All of whom would be targets if anyone found out about the project and who was involved.

Matt looked back at the gas station as he opened the car door. A large pit in front of the building waited for the fuel reservoir, which would be buried even more deeply than code required, as well as the defensive measures Peter, Bruce, and Alex had come up with. Soon, the construction would move to the inside of the station.

So much to do and so little time to do it.

The drive back to the mansion helped him solidify a few ideas in his head, although the questions concerning personnel remained. A bank of clouds in the distance signaled the arrival of another weather front.

A vehicle waiting at the front gates of the mansion instantly put him on alert. He studied the license plate as he drove up next to it, noting the handicapped symbol.

A close-cropped brown haired man lowered the passenger side window, a young woman giving a short wave from the driver's seat.

Matt rolled down his own window, studying the honest looking face. A face that also looked upset. "Can I help you?"

"Mr. Trakker, may I speak with you for a few minutes?"

"Do I know you?" Matt asked, trying to place the face and not succeeding.

The man grimaced, "Sorry. I'm Dylan Ashina and this are my wife, Cindy. I worked with your wife."

Matt recognized the names instantly. Dylan had been Emily's primary aid in programming and someone he'd been trying to find for the last few weeks to ask about the computer programming. Cindy's face was familiar as one of the front receptionists, the only receptionist in the entire building to have survived the terrorist attack because of an early lunch break.

Matt hit a button on the console and the gate to the grounds slowly opened. "We can talk in my office. Follow me."

Matt parked his car at one side of the wide arcing driveway near one of the main side entrances to the mansion.

Cindy instantly jumped out and helped Dylan down into a wheelchair that she pulled out of the back seat. Dylan smiled apologetically as he set a small briefcase on his lap, "Sorry, the ramp broke."

"I'll wait here," the woman stepped back as Dylan moved the wheelchair forward.

"You are both welcome to come in," Matt said quickly, motioning to the door. "My office is just down the hall."

Matt led the way inside, calling to Ms. Simpson to watch out for Scott's arrival from school. Dylan looked even more nervous as they entered Matt's office. Cindy sat down in one of the armchairs, putting her hand on Dylan's arm.

"Can I get either of you something to drink?" Matt asked as he sat down behind the desk.

"No, I don't think we'll be here that long." Dylan opened up the briefcase and took out a large yellow envelope. He closed the briefcase and handed it to Cindy. He reached over and put the envelope on the desk, "This belongs to you."

Matt reached over and picked it up. The first thing that fell out along with a stack of legal papers was a rather large check drawn off a major bank in Denver. Matt looked back up at Dylan, "What is this for?"

"Uh, you see, Emily volunteered to back my new software company. The contract we signed is also in the envelope. I'm returning the funds," Dylan said, holding his hands tightly in his lap.

Matt quickly scanned through the contract. As usual, Emily did a fantastic job. She'd invested in a few companies since they married, and while he'd sometimes been surprised in what she'd chosen, she'd never been wrong. He looked up, "What type of software?"

Dylan startled, obviously not expecting the question, "Robotic logic, preliminary AI systems for home care systems."

"Extensive problem-solving abilities?"

"For a medical home environment, it has to be," Dylan said, looking even more confused. "Mr. Trakker, I know you weren't apart of this agreement. I had hoped to have this paid back by the end of next year, as I already have contracts. However, with what happened…"

Dylan stopped, and cleared his throat, "We were out signing the final legalities to get the company going when it all happened. But now, I don't think it's right to keep it. The money should go back to you."

Matt put everything back into the yellow envelope, including the check, and set it back on the edge of the desk directly in front of Dylan. He then folded his hands on top of the desk, "I won't accept it."

Cindy looking as if she were about to cry, while Dylan sat stiffly in his wheelchair with his hands clasped tightly in his lap.

Matt continued, "I won't accept it because I view the contract as still active. Emily was a smart woman, completely capable of seeing a good opportunity when she found it. She believed in you and now, so do I."

The relief in both of them told Matt that they'd probably lost everything in order to pay the money back. He took a deep breath and leaned forward, "I appreciate your honesty and values. Would you mind telling me a little more about your venture?"

In the conversation that followed, Matt found out his assumptions had been correct. They'd moved the business into a garage to keep going, with Dylan as the only programmer and Cindy as office manager. The people they'd hired and then immediately let go corresponded with the healthy contracts Dylan had already gained. Contracts Matt knew Dylan couldn't possibly fulfill all on his own, no matter how much of a programming genius the man might be.

"Emily would be happy to know you're continuing with your dream," Matt said as Cindy put the manila envelope back into the briefcase. "I hope you can recover your personnel before someone else hires them."

Dylan smiled, "I think I can get most of them back as it's only been a couple weeks. I'm well known in the programming field."

"We'll have to move the equipment again," Cindy said. She turned to Matt, "I am truly sorry about what happened to Emily. It's been so hard on all of us. That's why we went ahead with our wedding. Life is so short."

Matt nodded, "Many good people were lost."

"And it hasn't stopped, despite the official blame going to that group." Dylan stopped, his face flushing red. "Sorry sir, but I was called in by the police to help decode the security backups. I know one of the main instigators of the event wasn't captured and is still out there."

Matt sat back in his chair and nodded, "Oh yes, I am very well aware. I have people working on that problem."

"I wish you success in it. If you need help, let me know." Dylan said earnestly.

A little more background investigation and Matt would do that. But to Dylan he smiled, "I'll be sure to let you know."

Matt escorted them to their vehicle and watched them drive away. A few minutes later he found Scott on one of the rear lawn areas finishing a snowman.

Scott's red cheeks and nose didn't diminish his grin. Hair stuck out in all directions from under his knit hat. He looked up at waved at Matt. "Hi Dad. Are you done with your meeting?"

"All finished. Need any help with your project?"

"Nah, it's already done." Scott said, patting a little more snow next to a twig that represented the arms.

"How would you feel about a trip?" Matt found himself saying before he could stop himself. Matt immediately wondered if he should have said anything. He would be in meetings and on tours through much of the trip, just the sort of thing an active boy like Scott would be bored silly with.

Scott froze and looked at him with wide eyes. "Do I get to help you pick up the car?"

Matt almost groaned out loud. So, Scott had picked up on that already, which made him wonder how much else the child knew. Matt motioned towards the house, "Time to have a little talk."


	2. Chapter 2

The gray trench coat looked like a myriad others in the room, but the man still stood out. Wide shouldered, muscular, a hard square jaw, a patch across one eye. If he were trying to hide, he failed miserably.

For Vanessa Warfield it made tracking him all the easier. She took her time, wandering around at the back of the room while Cliff Dagger studied a piece of paper in his hands and then studied the painting on the wall in front of him. Slowly the man worked his way into the next room of the Louvre Museum.

Vanessa slowly followed, casting a critical eye at the paintings Dagger showed such interest in. Some were world-known classics, while others obscure. The variety of artists and styles made it difficult to see what any of them could possibly have in common. But, there had to be some connection, somewhere, somehow. Not for one moment did Vanessa think Dagger's museum visit as a simple tour of France's art treasures.

She kept her eyes open, casting quick but piercing glances at the others in the area. Families, a few couples holding hands, one group of rowdy teenagers filled the area. None of them remotely matched the dossiers of any United Freedom Front members.

Still, most likely a partner would be somewhere nearby and she didn't like surprises.

Dagger turned away from the paintings and headed towards the exit of the gallery. Vanessa picked up her pace to keep up with him. She lost him for a moment in a room of statues only to catch up with him in the next.

He headed for the main elevator leading down to the underground parking area. Vanessa rushed down the steps, arriving on the main level. She grabbed her motorcycle in one of the smaller parking spaces near the exit and waited. Dagger had to pass by her to leave, no matter which exit he decided to take.

She saw him in a large black SUV, coming up from one of the lower levels of the parking garage. She moved out behind him as he exited onto Avenue du Général Lemonnier.

Dagger drove down the street at a surprisingly sedate speed. Vanessa stayed a short distance behind him, watchful of the icy streets. Cold curled around her neck as she picked up speed. She reached up and pulled the coat collar higher to protect against the winter air.

She didn't have to follow as long as she thought she might. He pulled through the arched stone gate of an enclosed mansion ground. A mansion she recognized from her research.

Her eyes narrowed as she drove by. So, she finally found their last hole.

Vanessa noticed a bakery on the opposite side of the road. Parking the motorcycle on the other side of the block in an alley, she casually walked back. With a book in hand she settled into a table at the bakery, picking apart a delicate flaky croissant. Pretending to read the book she covertly watched the mansion.

The sun set and the city lamps came on one by one. No vehicles arrived or departed from the mansion in all that time. Dagger reappeared once, several hours later, to drive away. By the time she left the bakery and walked to the end of the block, Dagger drove back to the mansion with a white box sitting on the passenger seat.

A food run?

Vanessa eyed the mansion from the corner of the block. Only four of the windows showed any light. She knew the United Freedom Front numbers were severely cut. Perhaps she could nail the remainder all at one time.

Vanessa circled the block, finding her way back to her motorcycle sitting in an alley between two buildings. She pulled a black stocking mask down over her face. Out from under the seat came a utility belt and a small crossbow.

She made her way to the back of the alley. A quick jump and she was on top of the stone wall dividing the block. She kicked snow out of her way as she walked on the top edge of the fence, making sure to place her feet carefully. Hidden ice and a bad slip could end the night really fast.

The fence met up with the face of an older building that towered up three stories. A short step to the left, and she was on the fire escape. She moved as quickly as she could without noise, but the cold-soaked metal creaked with almost every step. When she reached the top she quickly glanced around the area.

No movement except the occasional vehicle on the roads. The climb onto the roof proved more difficult. Hanging icicles and a hard slick hump of snow and ice at the gutter proved to be a barrier that took several minutes to move past.

At the top of the flat mansard roof chimneys rose up along the length of the building. She ducked under the smoke billowing out as she skirted around them. At the last one she gained a clear view of the small back yard and a tall fence beyond which lay the mansion.

Vanessa crouched down and studied the windows, bringing to mind the layout of the grounds and mansion. Nothing moved in the windows. Only one room on the back side showed any light at all.

She reached down and pulled a small crossbow off the belt. She expanded the claws of the grappling hook at the end of the projectile. Taking careful aim, she fired.

The grappling hook arced through the air, a small thread of a rope following it. It arced over the metal railing of a balcony. Grabbing the rope, she yanked. The hook dropped out of the air, wrapping around the railing, catching firm.

Vanessa quickly anchored the other end on the chimney using a small box fastener. She traded the crossbow for a small pulley, snaking her left hand into a small loop of black rope on the end. With the pulley placed on the rope she let gravity to the rest.

She sailed across the chasm with a soft zipping sound coming from the pulley. She swung her feet forward, flexing her knees as her feet contacted the edge of the railing. Vanessa steadied her feet on the balcony before swinging over the edge.

She paused, listening.

Only the sound of a car moving through slush greeted her ears.

She unhooked the grappling hook and reloaded the crossbow. With a push of a button on a remote control the fastener anchoring the rope around the far chimney released. A spinner at the back of the crossbow reeled in the length of thin rope. With it reloaded for another use, she slipped on the safety and attached the crossbow to her belt.

The clasps along the edges of the door verified the security system. A system Vanessa knew very well from past jobs. She pulled a small electronic device off her belt. In seconds she pinpointed the security system frequencies and hacked into it. A moment later she had it unlocked.

Once inside the house she latched and locked the door before the security system reactivated.

The warmth of the mansion seeped through to her chilled skin. Making her way across the dark room, she cracked open the door and listened. Indistinguishable voices drifted down the corridor.

Time to take care of business.

With a small pistol in her hand Vanessa crept out of the room and down the corridor towards the voices. She heard Dagger say something.

"You should have checked them off the list!" Another voice said, the words suddenly clear with raised volume. "Now you need to go again. We must be absolutely sure of the placement."

Vanessa paused, trying to place the voice. It sounded familiar.

"If we just take them, then who cares!" Dagger said with a sniff.

"And I've told you why we can't do that. Every law-enforcement in the country, if not all of Europe, would descend on our heads!" The other voice said with a huff. The huff told her the identity in an instant. A glance into the room verified her hunch. "Do as I say, and we'll have a chance at making this work. Don't forget the amount of money riding on it."

Vanessa slipped into the room, holding her pistol ready, back to the wall. Dagger instantly saw her, jerking up straight in his chair, a thick sandwich halfway to his mouth.

Vanessa shook her head at him and then turned her attention to the gray head of the man sitting with his back to her. "Dagger is good with his hands, but not in using his head."

The man slowly turned in his chair, chewing a mouthful of food.

Vanessa studied him. Miles Mayhem looked thinner than she recalled from their previous meeting last year. But, he still had the same shrewd eyes. While Dagger remained tense, Mayhem merely studied her as hard as she did to him. Then her eyes caught sight of the cane leaning up against another chair.

Mayhem swallowed his food, saying, "Vanessa Warfield. What brings you to Paris? Last I heard you were in India."

Vanessa kept the pistol ready, waiting for Dagger to try something. He was foolish enough to try. "I was, until Dagger's new group of thugs destroyed eight months of work. Left me in the custody of the local drug lord while they took off with the loot. Took me two months to escape. Where are they, Dagger? Where are the rest of them?"

Mayhem started smiling, a genuine smile that sparked a touch of evil in his eyes, "Looking for the United Freedom Front? How interesting. Is Dagger all you can find?"

Dagger slowly put down his sandwich and gave her a disgusted look, "You think they stood a chance against Mayhem? Beat them at their own game, he did. I never worked for them, only Mayhem."

Vanessa faltered. Dagger didn't have the most brilliant mind, and his ability to act amounted to saying nothing at all. Her instincts told her he told the truth, but she couldn't assume anything in this game. "You were seen with them, working with their people. Explain it!"

Mayhem motioned to one of the chairs, "Sit down, Vanessa, and enjoy the meal Dagger brought back. It's quite a story, and one I think you'll take great pleasure in. Perhaps, then, you might listen to a proposal I have."

Mayhem stopped and laughed, "After you make certain the house is clear, of course. However, I assure you, none of the group remains. I was most careful. Your coming here confirms my success. If anyone could track down the snakes, it would be you."

Dagger gave a short bark of laughter and then dug into his sandwich again, clearly not seeing her as a danger any longer. Vanessa didn't like that.

She narrowed her eyes, "Talk to me here and now."

Several minutes into the story, she pulled off her face mask and clicked on the safety of the gun. By the end of the story, she joined them at the table and helped herself to the box of food. The details corroborated what she'd been able to find out about the United Freedom Front. By the end of the proposal, Vanessa felt an inner thrill. Months of hardship, the loss of millions in gemstones, and now money was within her grasp again.


	3. Chapter 3

"Tested her out myself a few weeks back, up in the mountains. Works a treat. Pass on my admiration to the designers," Andre Poulet said, beaming with pride.

The man had a reason to be proud.

Matt looked over the gleaming red paint scheme. The gull-wing Camaro looked exactly like those he'd seen on showroom floors. Under the hood, however, was an entirely different matter. The car sat in a back corner of a large workshop that once produced some of the best custom vehicles in the world, and yet, its presence filled the nearly empty room.

Thunderhawk had officially jumped from daydream and plans into full reality. Matt's adrenalin surged just thinking about testing it.

Matt turned back to Andre and shook his hand while Scott ran circles around the car, "I can't believe you finished it so quickly. My personal thanks."

"Thank my sons, as well. Thank you for helping with my retirement and saving our business. Now I can leave this place to my sons and me and the missus can head out on our cruise this coming weekend," Andre said, the force of his smile crinkling his eyes. "The secret is safe. Should I ask how you will license it without an inspection?"

Matt set his briefcase on a workbench and took out a folder. He lifted up a license place, "Already taken care of, including shipping papers. I can handle it from this point."

"And maintenance?" Andre asked.

Matt inwardly cringed, "I'm working on that."

The drive back into Paris was a shear joy. Scott bounced up and down in his seat, alternating from looking around the vehicle to the outside scenery of a frozen winter French landscape. The car took the corners with gliding grace. A tap on the gas surged it forward with surprising strength, and yet never once did he feel it drift out of control. He finally had the sports car of his dreams.

Scott declared as they reached the hotel, "This is better than the limo!"

"You bet it is," Matt agreed.

Andre's words echoed in Matt's head as they ate an early dinner. Maintenance would difficult for all the vehicles, not to mention building them. With Andre he'd lucked out, knowing he could talk the man into the project with a little incentive. Andre would not be available any longer. Not only was he retiring as a custom vehicle and aircraft designer, but was dedicating the next few years to making dreams come true with his slowly dying wife. His sons might be capable, but they didn't have their Father's finesse, and soon the workshop would be filled with people Matt didn't know.

Again, the need for utmost secrecy limited Matt's abilities. A problem money couldn't necessarily solve.

Getting Scott to sleep that night proved to be a trial. While Matt had been successful in keeping the child away from sugar and junk food, the event of the day proved too stimulating. Near midnight he finally fell asleep, allowing Matt a chance for a little himself.

As expected, Scott didn't want to wake up the next morning. Even a hearty breakfast did little to perk him up. The only thing that penetrated Scott's sleepy mind was the excitement of another ride in Thunderhawk. The excitement quickly faded away as they walked down the hallways of the Louvre Museum with Curator Pierre Denon and Assistant Curator Monique Vivant.

Scott looked around at the sculptures along the wide museum corridor, "I don't see why we have to get up at the crack of dawn just to see a bunch of paintings."

"This isn't just any painting and this isn't just any museum," Matt reminded Scott. "The Louvre Museum is the largest of its kind in the world."

"The painting you loaned us will be the highlight of our latest exhibit, Mr. Tracker," Curator Denon said with a tolerant smile. "The least we could do is provide you with a special tour before the Louvre becomes crowded."

"Yeah, but I want to see the Eiffel Tower," Scott insisted.

"The Tower is cold this time of year monsieur," Ms. Vivant said with an amused heavy French accent. "Enjoy the warmth in here for a while before freezing."

"Don't worry, you won't miss the Tower this trip," Matt said. Scott scowled when Matt ruffled his hair.

They came around a corner, and the Curator froze so fast that Matt almost walked right into him. Matt's hand dropped down to Scott's shoulder, instantly aware of the tension radiating from the Curator.

"What is this?" Curator Denon demanded.

Matt looked around the room but at first he couldn't place what was wrong. Then his eyes caught the back bracing of a large painting near them. His eyes quickly took in the rest of the room and confirmed the same unusual occurrence.

Good grief, every painting in the gallery had been turned around!

Ms. Vivant rushed to a nearby wall console, hitting a red emergency button. Loud sirens sounded through the museum.

As Matt heard footsteps running towards them, he turned to the Curator Denon, "I would like Scott to leave until we can be sure exactly what has happened here. Whomever did this might still be here. Can someone take him back to the hotel?"

"No, I want to go to the Eiffel Tower!" Scott interrupted.

"I can take him," Ms. Vivant said quickly. "Perhaps after a quick trip to the Eiffel Tower the meaning of this prank will be known, Oui?"

A security guard ran in from a door on the other side of the room, shouting in French, "Curator, the paintings in two rooms have been turned over!"

Curator Denon waved a hand at Ms. Vivant, "Yes, take care of the boy."

Matt gave Scott a quick hug, "When you get back we can look at the paintings."

"That's okay. Maybe we can go to the Eiffel Tower again after you are done." Scott said, pulling his gloves out of his pocket.

"A one-track mind, just like with food," Matt said with a shake of his head.

"Do not worry, Mr. Trakker. I will keep a close eye on him." Ms. Vivant said with a smile.

Scott and Ms. Vivant disappeared back the way they'd come. Matt turned back to the Curator as another guard shouted from another gallery that all paintings were accounted for.

Someone broke into the Louvre and left all the priceless paintings of old masters alone? The value of even one painting in the room would be close to a million.

"What do you mean, you recognize it?" Curator Denon asked one of the Security Guards, who was looking at faded lines on the back of a canvas.

Matt quickly caught up with him, studying the lines.

"The underground, this is not far from here," the guard said. He traced the line with a wrinkled hand with liver spots but without touching the canvas. "This isn't apart of the painting, this is Paris! Or, I should say, old Paris. My Papa worked in the tunnels. I don't see the new cross-tunnel."

Matt looked around the room, spotting another painting with faded lines. Another painting in the far corner showed lines so faint they were hard to see even with two spotlights shining down brightly on it.

Perhaps a clue to the real reason for the break-in?

~xoxoxoxoxox~

The cloud cover warmed the outdoor temperatures, but not enough to keep his hands from going numb. The woman moved stealthily, keeping a low profile, making it difficult for him to track her in turn. Why couldn't she have been in a warmer climate? Now he might freeze to death. Again, he repeated to himself that this nonsense would soon come to an end.

Buddy Hawks eyed the bakery standing opposite of the imposing mansion. The thought of not only warmth, but of fresh breads was a terrible temptation.

Vanessa Warfield's motorcycle motored down the street, turning into the mansion. Three times now he'd seen her going in and out of the same building. Good, she'd set up shop. His sources had been exact: she was in Paris and looking for a buyer. It would make his job much easier. Now to figure out how to get inside without attracting unwanted attention.

The gates into the Mansion courtyard started rising. A black SUV drove out with someone familiar in the driver's seat. Buddy blinked twice, but the image stayed the same as the vehicle drove past him.

What in the world would Vanessa be doing around Cliff Dagger?

Regardless of the answer, it meant he had an opportunity. Buddy quickly returned to his vehicle and opened the trunk. Pulling out a large briefcase, he retreated to the warmer interior of his car. With the briefcase propped open in the passenger seat, he pulled out a canister of makeup.

~xoxoxoxoxox~

Scott looked out the window of the taxi at the buildings as they drove down a small city street. His breath fogged the windows as he breathed out, letting him draw faces and words before it faded.

"This cannot be the way." Ms. Vivant muttered. In French she said something to the cab driver. The driver grunted and waved a hand at her.

She leaned forward with an angry expression on her face. A volatile stream of French followed. The driver said something back just as angry. The cab screeched to a stop, throwing Scott forward against the seatbelt.

Ms. Vivant said one more irate phrase and unbuckled her seatbelt, "Come, Scott. We will not stay in this vehicle for another moment!"

Scott quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and scrambled out of the car after her. The two adults shouted at each other through the open driver's open window before he gave her a hand gesture and drove off.

Scott watched it drive away with his eyes wide. He looked around. He couldn't see the Eiffel Tower above any of the buildings around them. Were they lost?

Ms. Vivant let out a pent up breath, "I am sorry for this."

"What happened?" Scott asked with a small voice.

"Monsieur thought he might make more from us by driving the long way." Ms. Vivant huffed. She looked around the road. Taking his hand she led the way down the sidewalk, "I will call the company to complain. Oh yes, I will complain!"

She led the way to a small cafe with shades over the windows and door. Along with the welcoming warmth were wonderful smells of soups and pastries. Scott looked at the lines of confections in a glass case as Ms. Vivant used a pay-phone near the door. He heard her voice rise in anger at the person on the other end of the line.

Seeing a pastry with strawberries and chocolate, Scott dug down into his pockets. Only a wadded up tissue and a few coins came out. Scott walked back to Ms. Vivant, looking at the other pay-phone. As she continued arguing, he reached up for the handle. Dialing the operator, he asked for the Louvre Museum. A few moments later the Museum operator connected him to his Dad.

"Is everything all right, son?" Dad asked.

"I'm not sure, Dad. We got out of the taxi and Ms. Vivant is arguing with someone on the other phone. Can I have my allowance tonight? I'm hungry," Scott said as he looked back at the pastry case.

"Where are you?" Dad asked urgently.

Scott shrugged, "I don't think we're near the Eiffel Tower."

"Who are you speaking with?" Ms. Vivant asked over his head.

Scott looked up, "Dad. He wants to know where we are."

At her open hand, he gave her the receiver. Scott looked back at the pastries as Ms. Vivant assured him they were fine. A couple came in through the door, allowing a wave of cold air to rush into the cafe.

Ms. Vivant hung up the phone and led Scott to the counter. "Your Father will come to pick us up himself. The police are now at the Museum to conduct an investigation. We can have a bite to eat while we wait. Does anything look good?"

Grinning, Scott pointed.

~xoxoxoxoxox~

A caretaker's code worked on the keypad at the front gate. A few moments later Buddy entered the mansion. He quietly closed the front door behind him and listened. Hearing a male and female voice in one of the downstairs rooms, he quickly moved upstairs.

Systematically he began investigating the rooms. Several doors away from the grand staircase he came to a bedroom showing signs of use. Vanessa's favorite perfume sat on the dresser and a change of clothing sat ready on a hook nearby.

Judging by the expensive black evening gown hanging prominently in the wardrobe she planned another sting. There were plenty of options for a mark, with several high-society events to occur over the next several weeks. He didn't waste time wondering who it might be. Who knew how much time he had left before Dagger returned.

Always hide things in plain sight, he kept repeating to himself. Yet, all Vanessa's favorite hiding places sat empty. He repeated his search, looking for anything he might have missed during his first search.

A false bottom to the perfume bottle held the prize. An antique pair of earrings dropped into Buddy's hand, the two large matching diamonds glittering at him even in the dim light filtering in through the sheer curtains of the window. Just from a quick glance he noted the excellent craftsmanship of the gold work. Vanessa definitely had an eye for quality.

He quickly wrapped them in a tissue and then a small square of cloth. He placed the valuable bundle in the inside pocket of his jacket. With the key to his retirement safely tucked away, he screwed shut the bottom of the perfume bottle and placed it back exactly where it had been sitting.

He returned to the door and stopped to listen. Not hearing any noise from the other side of the door, he cracked it open. Seeing the corridor empty, he walked out, quietly closing the bedroom door behind him.

He nearly made it to the staircase when he heard footsteps coming up from the foyer below. Buddy thought of bluffing the situation, merely walking down and out the door. But, with so many empty rooms, there was no reason to take the added risk of someone noticing that the coat Buddy wore didn't match the exact color of Dagger's.

He retreated backwards and slipped into the first room he came to, silently closing the door behind him.

Light streamed in from the window, illuminating a wall with several large pictures thumb-tacked into a large square. The pattern on the pictures intrigued him.

Buddy moved closer. Faded lines on the photographs were reinforced with marker. In a way it looked like a map. The river looked right but the roads were all wrong. No matter how he looked at it, he couldn't make sense of it.

The intersection with a main subway terminal turned the key in his mind.

It was a map. The Paris underground.

He'd used them a time or two himself. Now that he knew what he was looking at a few other things stood out. This wasn't the entire network. All the tunnels shown were old, including several areas once used during World War 2 as bunkers and hiding places for the French Resistance.

The portions highlighted disturbed him. Each was under a major building, shopping area or historical district, all except the circle. The circle sat near the river in one of the oldest sections.

Buddy slipped a digital camera out of his back pocket and snapped several pictures. Slipping the camera back in his pocket, he backed away towards the door, his mind trying to fathom why Vanessa would be involved in something to do with the Paris underground system. Usually, she walked straight into a home during society gatherings and stole them blind, or planned big one-time heists for gems and jewelry after disabling massive security systems. No way did all the marked areas sit under jewelry stores or mansions. What could she be up to?

A heavy footstep sounded from the other side of the door, "Yeah, so I forgot it! Big deal. We have plenty of time with the police busy at the museum."

The next moment Buddy came face to face with Cliff Dagger. The man's jaw dropped open, "Hey, what am I doing in here?"


	4. Chapter 4

A master of disguise's worst nightmare: Coming face-to-face with the person you are impersonating.

Buddy took advantage of Cliff Dagger's dumbfounded surprise. He rushed at him with his left shoulder down. He connected with Dagger's muscled midriff. Dagger's breath left him along with an oath of surprise.

They crashed into the corridor, taking Vanessa Warfield down with them. Buddy felt a part of his face mask slip away. He kept moving, knowing his element of surprise was almost up. He rolled to his feet and ran for the staircase.

"Stop him! He's seen the map!" Dagger yelled out.

"Get off me, you oaf!" Vanessa hollered.

Buddy made it down the stairs before he heard them recover and start chasing after him. Another portion of the face-mask came loose from the glue just under his eyes, impairing his vision. He heard someone else yell at him as he barreled out of the mansion, yanking the prosthetic off his cheek so he could see better.

The gate stood wide open with a black SUV next to the mansion entrance. Dagger must have intended to head right back out again. It made his escape all the easier. If he could make it to his vehicle there would be no way anyone could find him. He knew the streets of Paris better than most natives.

Behind him, he heard the door of the mansion slam open. A sound from higher up on the mansion told Buddy someone had probably opened one of the upper windows.

A male voice behind him shouted, "Viper, on!"

The word came out of nowhere and so out of context that Buddy faltered. His feet slipped on the icy ground. He slid down onto his side, coming to a stop within the arch of the gate. A sharp hissing sound came from above him.

A drop of red hit the ice and cobblestones next to him. The drop sizzled and quickly ate into first the ice and then began eating at the rock underneath. Buddy looked upwards. Red gel popped and fizzed against the thick chains of the gate pulley system. A section of the chain disintegrated into nothing.

As if in slow motion, the gate began to fall. The pointed daggers of the horizontal metal bars aimed straight at his chest.

~xoxoxoxoxox~

Matt passed the vehicle before realizing why it looked familiar. The small car might look ordinary to most people walking by, but Matt recognized Buddy Hawks custom handiwork. The last he'd heard, Buddy was in South America. What would he be doing in Paris?

Matt grimaced to himself. He probably didn't want to know.

Turning the corner onto a street that would take him straight to Scott, he saw something else. Dagger on the ground, red fluid gelling and hissing at metal.

A gate falling downwards to impale him.

Wait, Dagger? The face! A torn face!

Matt's mind put all of it together in one split second.

Matt applied the brake as a hand went to the dash. Thunderhawk responded instantly. The dashboard flipped and shifted. The heads-up display in the window expanded to a targeting display. The gull wings opened up, compact laser turrets pushing forward out of their hiding place. In the rear view mirror he could see the rear stabilizer rise up, a movement that would see the license place flipping to reveal a special PNA-approved plate. The paint scheme of the car shifted to a shiny black

And no Mask. Matt only hoped the interruption of any municipality security cameras or traffic cameras would occur as they were supposed to upon Thunderhawk's transformation.

The targeting display followed Matt's eye movements perfectly. Matt's thumb pressed down on a button on the side of the automatic transmission column. Two highly focused laser bursts shot out, striking the gate where it met with the heavy rock wall.

The channel crumbled. The edge of the gate caught in the crumpled rock and twisted metal channel. The metal spikes of the decorative gates came to a stop just inches from the chest of the fake Dagger.

Dagger looked up at it in shock. Matt brought Thunderhawk to a screeching stop a short distance away. The man slid out from under the gate and ran for Matt, pulling at the rest of the face disguise.

The moment he jumped into the car Matt put the vehicle in reverse. The vehicle swung around in a sliding turn. Matt gunning the engine to carry them down a side street. Thunderhawk switched back to civilian mode just as smoothly as the previous transformation.

Buddy whistled as he pulled off an eye patch and hat, "Where did you get this baby? I've never seen a vehicle do anything like this."

"I thought you were trying to go the straight and narrow," Matt said as his mind quickly plotted out what street he needed to drive down to get to Scott.

"Just one last job."

"You keep saying that." Matt studied the traffic appearing behind the car. With relief, he saw that it was a simple taxi, which quickly turned down another street. Good, no one was following.

"This time I mean it," Buddy said as he stuffed the hat into a pocket. "Dad needs me."

Matt glanced over at him, "He's getting worse? Sorry to hear that."

"Meanwhile, you won't believe what I saw in the mansion," Buddy said.

"An old map of the Paris underground?"

Buddy stared at Matt, and asked testily, "How did you know that?"

Matt pressed his lips together. He wasn't prepared for this battle, "Dagger works for Miles Mayhem."

"Mayhem? The one who stole from that program your wife worked? Is that were that red stuff came from?"

"Be glad none of it got on you. It can eat through titanium."

Buddy shuddered. He pulled the digital camera out of his pocket. "I took pictures. He had a big map on the wall with circles."

Matt turned onto the street with the bakery. As Scott ran out of the door, Matt said, "I have something else to take care of first."

Matt quickly brought Thunderhawk to a stop near the curb. He lifted the gull-wing and stepped out into the cold. Ms. Vivant followed Scott, chastising him not to run away. She stopped when she saw Mr. Trakker. A bright yellow taxi pulled up behind Thunderhawk.

"Monsieur, I did not know you would arrive so soon!" Ms. Vivant quickly said. "I apologize for the problem with the taxi."

Matt waved off the comment, "It isn't your fault. Paris taxi drivers have a world-wide reputation."

"But one we do not wish to reinforce," an older man said, approaching from the parked taxi. He respectfully tipped his hat to Ms. Vivant revealing carefully combed hair, "The company sent me to ensure you arrive promptly at your destination at our expense. We deeply apologize for any problems you have encountered."

Matt looked back at Thunderhawk where Buddy waited next to the open gull-wing. He turned back to Scott, pulling a few bills out of his wallet. "To the Eiffel Tower with you, young man. I have a boring errand to take care of. After your visit, I'll meet up with you at la Tour d'Argent for lunch. Ms. Vivant, you are welcome to join us, of course."

"Sure you don't want to come with us?" Scott asked as he accepted the money.

"I would, but I can't put this off. You can tell me all about it over lunch," Matt said.

With the taxi seen off, Matt returned to Thunderhawk. As he settled in his seat he asked Buddy, "Would you mind showing me those pictures?"

~xoxoxoxoxox~

The impersonator slid out from under the jammed gate, quickly disappearing behind the wall surrounding the mansion grounds. Miles didn't need the sound amplifiers of the mask to hear the high-powered engine located somewhere on the other side.

Dagger and Vanessa ran after the escaping man. The sound of the engine receded. Dagger grabbed hold of the jammed gate and tried to pull it up while Vanessa looked through it. She turned towards him while Dagger continued heaving, shaking her head.

Miles pulled off the mask and leaned against the open windowsill, oblivious to the cold air rushing around him. He narrowed his eyes. Someone with high-tech weaponry just infiltrated the mansion and saw the map. It could only mean trouble.

He beckoned Dagger and Vanessa back to the mansion. Time to increase their pace, before the authorities showed up.

~xoxoxoxoxox~

The computer in Thunderhawk proved adequate for piecing the photographs together without any outside computing power. Matt then superimposed the new image over the one he'd previously put together from the backs of the paintings at the museum. The lines matched exactly, with Mayhems circles and crisscrossed areas showing prominently.

Matt noticed Buddy studying the dash layout. "Don't suppose you'd let me take a run around town in this baby?"

The corner of Matt's mouth quirked, "No, I don't think so."

"Want to tell me what a car like this is all about? I've been in enough stuff to know trouble when I see it. What are you getting into, Matt?" Buddy prodded.

"On a need-to-know basis. I ask you don't mention it to anyone." Matt made one final tweak to the image and then settled back into his seat, "There."

The two maps melded together over a modern map of the Paris underground. Everything sat right in the heart of Paris including many of the historical districts.

Buddy pointed to the circled area, "Something important is here. It's the only mark like it on Mayhem's map. You may not know this, but all the marks are in the older parts of the underground."

"I know."

"How would you know that?" Buddy demanded.

"An elderly security guard at the Louvre noticed it right away."

"Can you at least tell me what is so special about old underground sewers and drainage tunnels that would attract the attention of Miles Mayhem and Vanessa Warfield?"

The second name took Matt by surprise. He quickly turned his gaze from the screen, "What is she doing with him?"

"Apparently working for him," Buddy said with a shrug. "Odd, she's usually a solo worker. There must be a lot of cash involved to gain her attention."

"She's good with electronics," Matt murmured. Buddy waited for him to speak more with an expression of expectation on his face.

Behind the curve again. Mayhem up to something and Matt had nothing but Thunderhawk to help. No computer or satellite link, no mask, limited weapons and no backup.

Matt looked back at Buddy, making a quick decision, "I need your help. I'm guessing you know the underground."

Buddy smiled, "Just don't ask me how."

"Want to hear the full story about this map on our way?"

Buddy looked out the window for a moment. He then turned back to Matt, "How dangerous is this?"

"Could be deadly," Matt said simply.

Buddy studied his face. Then with a cocky grin he said, "Sure, might as well get a little excitement in before my official retirement. Tell me all about it on the way. I know an opening near the river which will take us right to the circle on the map."

~xoxoxoxoxox~

One big benefit of the mansion: the underground garage also held a passage into the underground big enough for vehicles to pass through. Perfect for leaving and arriving without anyone on the outside observing the movements.

The quick escape did nothing to calm Mayhem's fury. Someone was playing with his plan. With the amount of money riding on it he didn't have the time or space for mistakes. Much less the patience.

Vanessa took the driver's seat of one of the armored SUV's, driving it with a natural skill. Just as he knew she would. In all the time he'd known her, he'd never seen her flustered by any vehicle, both ground and air.

He guided her through the twists and turns of the tunnels, moving ever closer to the heart of Paris. Dagger stayed close behind them. Miles reached into the back seat and pulled forward his Viper mask, setting it lightly on his lap.

"Have any more of those masks?" Vanessa asked as she negotiated around a narrow corner.

Miles raised an eyebrow, "Only for Venom agents."

"I'm still thinking around it," Vanessa said, pressing down on the accelerator. "You talk big, but can you keep it up long-term?"

Miles pointed out another turn before answering, "I have people working on the beginnings of several other projects. There will be enough to keep you busy."

"You said you had a diversion in place for today?" Vanessa asked.

Miles chuckled. "In a short time, three Paris suburb banks will be robbed, including many rich security boxes."

Vanessa laughed wickedly, "Nice distraction."

"As well as lucrative. We're almost there." Miles leaned over and switched on the vehicle radio, "Dagger, when we stop, continue circling the local tunnels. Make sure nothing gets in our way."

"Roger." Dagger answered back.


	5. Chapter 5

Matt turned at a light and merged with traffic before he continued the story, "During World War II the French Resistance hid most of the museum paintings so Hitler would not take them. During the German occupation of Paris Hitler planted a network of bombs under the city in the network of sewers. He planned to blow up Paris if the Allies should try to march in."

"Let me guess. The bombs are still there," Buddy said.

"As far as anyone knows. The bombs were to be triggered from a distance by a short-wave radio trigger hidden in a sealed bunker. The story goes that a member of the Resistance learned of the locations of the bombs and wrote them down on the backs of the hidden paintings. Only recently has the incident even come to light, thanks to a deathbed memoir published about a year ago by one of the few remaining survivors of the Resistance Cell."

"What does Mayhem want to do with it? Blow up the city?" Buddy said with scorn.

"More likely hold it hostage. There's a lot more money to be had in ransom, and he needs the money to expand his operation," Matt said as they crossed over a bridge.

"So, we're going in and stopping him from finding the detonator?"

"You got it."

"He has a mask that spits metal-corroding acid. Do you have a mask to counter it?"

"Not yet."

Buddy started to chuckle and Matt realized he'd let a bit of information slip out. Matt slowed down and let traffic go by as he studied the map one more time. Buddy pulled something dark out of his pocket and handed it to Matt. Buddy then pulled out another and began pulling the stocking face mask down over his face.

"You had these in your pocket?" Matt asked.

"Always be prepared. I'm guessing you don't want Mayhem to know who you are, to protect Scott and the rest of your family. Once this vehicle starts shooting its weapons they will want to know who the driver is," Buddy said. He gestured to the mask now sitting on Matt's right knee, "It isn't much, but it'll keep your identity safe for today."

The suggestion made sense. Matt looked in the mirrors to make sure no one was watching before quickly pulling it over his face.

Thunderhawk moved forward, going up onto the sidewalk. After a rough descent down a wide staircase to the level of the river walkway, they arrived at the entrance of the underground. As they left daylight behind, Matt switched Thunderhawk to battle-mode.

"Sweet," Buddy said under his breath as a separate targeting system appeared in front of the passenger seat, "Designed for a co-pilot?"

"Absolutely. The vehicle is loaded with sensors. In the middle of a battle it'll take more than one person to handle everything," Matt said. The display in front of him displayed the tunnels ahead of them in lines of red and black, allowing him plenty of reaction time for the first big turn.

"A battle. There's something I never thought I'd hear you say."

"That's why Mayhem won't suspect me," Matt said. At least, he hoped Mayhem would never suspect.

"Heat source ahead," Buddy announced, fiddling with the computer terminal while adjusting the targeting system.

Lights appeared ahead of them, bright enough that the entire tunnel illuminated. Matt squinted his eyes at the brightness, concentrating on keeping the vehicle in the middle of the tunnel. The windshield of Thunderhawk darkened enough to take the sting out of the headlights. The targeting computer wasn't fooled for a moment, clearly displaying a SUV-like vehicle similar to the ones he'd fought in Denver earlier that winter.

Laser fire erupted from the SUV, striking the surfaces of the tunnel around them. Matt swerved as much as he dared and adding his own laser fire. One of the headlights of the SUV exploded, dimming the glare.

Bricks from the top of the tunnel rained down. Matt hit the brakes, bringing Thunderhawk into a tight turn into a wider tunnel.

"Take the next turn to the left and we'll be heading in the right direction again." Buddy said over the sound of Thunderhawk's engine.

Laser fire sparked off a water pipe along the side of the tunnel. It exploded with several streams of water gushing out at high pressure. The back end of the car swung around as Matt cut tight around another corner.

~xoxoxoxoxox~

"New report, the bank heists are underway," Vanessa said from the door of the SUV. Miles continued to concentrate on his work as she added, "I hear something."

The SUV's lights shined on the spot Miles impatiently applied the venom of his mask. Slowly it ate through the brick layer. Slowly emerging from behind it was the metal doors of the World War II era bomb shelter. "We're almost there."

Miles heard Vanessa say, "Dagger, report. What's going on out there?"

"We have a nut in a dark car armed to the teeth," Dagger answered through the radio, "I'm doing what I can to keep him away from you, but you better hurry."

Miles stopped the flow of venom. A few seconds later the last trace of the venom evaporated. Miles took his cane and jabbed at the bricks. A few fell to form a pile on the floor. Vanessa joined him with a crowbar, pealing away most of the bricks covering the door. She lodged the tip of the crowbar into the doorjamb and yanked hard.

A sharp crack echoed through the tunnel. The door slowly creaked open.

Miles eagerly pushed at the door. Once inside, he quickly swept the crumbling room with a flashlight. The room showed the years of disuse. Concrete slowly pealed off the walls to litter the floor. Frozen moisture clung to the walls and ceiling making slick ice puddles on the floor.

A metal table in the far corner held the prize. Miles opened the protective chest. Inside sat the transmitter, looking as pristine as the day it had been placed inside.

Miles smiled under his mask, "It's time to address Paris itself."

~xoxoxoxoxox~

"Time to slip you up, Venom." Matt growled.

His thumb moved down to press a button in the center steering wheel brace. A black fog sprayed out behind them. Some lingered in the air, the rest dropped to coat the floor of the tunnel. A moment later the headlights behind them shifted violently from side to side.

"He's recovering," Buddy commented, "And we have trouble ahead."

Another set of headlights bore down on them. A series of laser blasts bounced off the hood of Thunderhawk.

"And the driver has better aim." Matt commented.

Buddy fired the runner-board lasers while Matt concentrated on avoiding a head-on collision. With a jerk of the wheel and the help of a gutter, Thunderhawk angled up on the two driver-side wheels.

A black SUV passed them with inches to spare. Thunderhawk slammed back down on all four tires. Matt brought the car into a sharp spin, the bumpers barely missing a scrape on the tunnel walls. Now facing back the way they'd come, Matt focused on the targeting display, intending to make good use of a little surprise.

Only the vehicles were no longer there.

"They're running? It's two against one!" Buddy exclaimed.

"Running can mean only one thing," Matt said, flooring the accelerator. The car shot forward with gratifying quickness, "Mayhem found what he was looking for."

~xoxoxoxoxox~

Miles looked behind them as Vanessa snaked the vehicle out of the tunnels. So far he couldn't see any trace of the strange vehicle. The powerful laser cannons worried him. As far as he knew, his new vehicle prototypes were the only ones on the planet with that kind of mobile power.

Miles shifted his gaze to Vanessa, "Did you recognize the driver?"

"I saw two people inside the vehicle, but I couldn't see their faces. I was too busy driving," Vanessa said, navigating another turn.

"Hey, Boss. I think we lost them!" Dagger gloated over the radio.

"Keep your eyes out for them. I have a feeling they'll show up again." Miles said answered back.

"I don't think they're Paris authorities. The locals don't have that kind of budget or imagination," Vanessa commented.

"It won't matter. If they show up again, we destroy them," Miles said.

A splotch of daylight appeared in front of them. He gripped the treasure in his lap, the radio feeling heavy for its size. The robust metal body gleamed softly in the growing light.

"You're sure that thing will work?" Vanessa asked.

"I'm sure."

The device may be old, but knowing German engineering of the time Miles felt sure it would transmit just fine once he applied power. If all went well, they wouldn't have to test it to its full abilities. If Paris knew what was good for it.

Vanessa slowed down, coming to a stop just outside the tunnel entrance. A white clothed draped a hulking shape to the right. Dagger stopped his vehicle and jumped out. Miles maneuvered out of the passenger seat of Vanessa's vehicle. Dagger pulled the cloth off.

A sleek black helicopter with a blaze of red on the side emerged, gleaming in the light of a winter sky.

Finally, a vehicle worthy of his talents.

With Dagger's help, they placed the transmitter in a special cradle on the right side of the pilot's seat and hooked it up. With a push on his cane, Miles pulled and pushed himself into the cockpit. Dagger immediately returned to his vehicle.

Miles caressed the main console. With a flick of a switch, he activated the systems. The dashboard came to light with a myriad lights, gauges and displays. His fingers ran across several other switches in quick succession. Above him the rotors slowly began spinning.

Dagger pulled away, heading up to the main Paris roads to take position. Vanessa waited until the rotors built up more momentum before driving away.

The helicopter lifted off the ground, slipping away from the tunnels as it gained altitude. A light on the transmitter next to him feebly glowed as the charging systems in the helicopter provided a steady slow stream of energy to the old device.

Miles didn't waste time. With a transmission of radio, short-wave, and audio blaring from a speaker set in the base of the helicopter he announced, "Attention, people of Paris, this is VENOM. There are bombs planted under your city in the sewers. You have one hour to pay me one billion dollars, or the city will be reduced to rubble. You will never find and defuse all the bombs in time."

Immediately, several emergency and police lines tried to contact him. Miles set his recording to play over and over across all the channels along with another message with enough details to get across the point he was serious.

"Mayhem, the car is back," Dagger said over the radio.

Mayhem swung the helicopter around and looked out the side window. The black Camaro sped away from a black hole in a retaining wall. Time to deal with the pest and make a lesson of him. "Take it out. Show no mercy."

Miles activated the helicopter's weapon systems, taking aim even as Dagger fired several shots at the car from a nearby bridge.

~xoxoxoxoxox~

Thunderhawk stayed true to the road despite the explosions going off around them. Civilian vehicles swerved and skidded out of a black SUV's way as Matt steered out of the limited confines of a frozen drainage ditch.

Once on the road, both Matt and Buddy used their targeting systems to return the attack. Through the police radio they could hear the Police frantically trying to react, but most of their forces were otherwise occupied with several violent bank robberies. Matt didn't need to guess who had orchestrated the diversion.

An explosion from a side road alerted them to another arrival.

A second black SUV screeched around a corner at high speed, taking up position just behind Thunderhawk. A black shadow fell over the hood. Matt cranked the wheel hard to the left, turning the car down one of the wider streets just before a missile hit the pavement where they'd just been.

"Two from the ground is bad enough! Where did the helicopter come from?" Buddy complained.

"Worse than that, they're going to hit someone innocent if we stay down here." Matt muttered, dodging another volley.

"What should we do? Head back into the sewers?"

"We can't do that, we have to stop Mayhem before he can use the transmitter." Matt looked up as the helicopter banked and came round for another pass. Light glinted off a strange shape in the helicopter cockpit. The Viper mask of the pilot told him who was the pilot. At least he now knew in which vehicle the transmitter resided. "Your seatbelt tight?"

"Of course it is. What kind of question is that?" Buddy said, firing at the SUV in front of them.

The thought of what was to come made Matt's blood sing. "Time to head upstairs and take care of the problem."

Buddy looked over at him, confusion showing in the eyes revealed by the face mask, "Run that by me again? How do we do that?"

"Time to give Mayhem a surprise."

Matt's left hand flexed on the gearshift. He reached forward to the dash. The heads-up display warned of the transformation just before the gull wings swung open. They shivered slightly as they extended more than twice their length, the front edge of the wings inflating to create a flight surface. The roar of rear rockets filled the air.

As the car surged forward and then up from the Paris boulevard, Buddy exclaimed, "Oh s…!"


	6. Chapter 6

"It flies? You have a car that flies?" Buddy yelled over the roar of Thunderhawk's flight engines. "Where did you get a car like this?"

Matt grinned at Buddy's tirade, which started at the ground and continued as they ascended past the range of the nearby buildings. Explosions in the air around them quickly shook him from the shear joy of power under him.

Matt warned, "We still have ground-fire."

Matt banked into a sharp left turn, bringing the vehicle around to face the departing helicopter. The ground vehicles were of secondary concern. No matter what, he had to keep Mayhem in sight.

"Mayhem is making a run for it!" Buddy noted, turning his attention back to the targeting computer.

"No, he's not running. He's heading for a central transmission point." Matt said, increasing the throttle.

"Can we catch him?"

"Watch me."

~xoxoxoxoxox~

"A what?" Miles roared into the mask mike. His ears wouldn't believe Dagger's report. Had the man been hit on the head?

"You heard him, the car just took off," Vanessa said, interrupting Dagger's initial warning. "It's right behind you."

A proximity warning sounded. A display activated, showing an image from behind the helicopter. A black vehicle arced through the sky, opened gull-wings spread as wings. Powerful engines left heat trails behind in the cold air.

And it was gaining.

Miles growled deep in his throat. His heart rate increased with anticipation of the upcoming battle. He flexed his bad leg before swinging the helicopter sharply around. The g-forces pressed him down into the seat.

With all weapons armed, he gave the stranger a very warm welcome.

Laser rays streaked through the air around his helicopter in response. Miles dropped the helicopter and brought it around for another volley. The car roared by, close enough that the helicopter was rocked by turbulence. Miles quickly fired off several more shots as the car banked around for another run at him.

The vehicle was just too fast.

It also had more than one weapon system that appeared to be operating independently from each other. Miles fired one of his two missiles. The car didn't swerve out of the way, instead turning to face directly into the missile. In a laser burst, the missile exploded in midair, the car flying through the debris cloud.

Right at Miles.

A cloud of laser bursts from the ground surrounded the car, one hitting the chassis. The car banked out of the way and then climbed.

"It's about time!" Miles shouted.

"We had a roadblock to blow," Dagger complained. "Any news on the money?"

"Just keep the bozo busy while I get into position," Miles ordered. "Even better, knock him from the sky!"

He brought the helicopter around, increasing his speed as he headed towards the middle of Paris.

~xoxoxoxoxox~

"Look how far you can see!" Scott shouted into the icy breeze, pointing out at the city. "Can we go higher?"

Ms. Vivant pulled the scarf around her neck tighter, "No, mon ami, the third level is as high as we can go."

Scott looked up the Eiffel Tower, and then looked back out at the city. The only thing marring the view was the wire safety mesh that surrounded the railing. "This would be so cool at night. You would be able to see all the lights of the entire city!"

"Indeed you would. You are brave not to fear heights."

Scott looked back at her, holding the railing in his gloved hand, "Are you scared of heights?"

She giggled, "Oh no, not I. My ma'ma is. Quite so that she will not live in a home having stairs."

"Oh." Scott turned back to the view. How sad someone would be so scared they couldn't see a view like this. There was so much to see. Everywhere he looked were old buildings and monuments. He had to talk Dad into coming up at night to see the city lights.

"Did you see that?" someone shouted.

"Fireworks!" someone else exclaimed while a flurry of French exclamations rounded the observation level.

Scott looked around, but couldn't see anything. In the distance he heard muffled booms and explosions. Ms. Vivant gasped, and he looked back at her. She stood very still, looking at something around the corner. He ran to her, almost slipping on the metal flooring.

Looking the other direction he saw red and yellow lights streaking into the sky ending with explosions. But, the explosions didn't erupt into a sparkling cloud like fireworks did. The sounds of the explosions grew more frequent. They didn't look like very good fireworks at all.

A big man moved in front of him so he couldn't see. Scott ran to the other side of the deck, leaning over the railing, trying to see what was happening. The safety mesh impeded his view even further.

A black shape grew bigger, the explosions growing louder as it neared. The dull thumps in the air told Scott it was probably a helicopter. From it a voice boomed, speaking in French. Many in the crowd gasped.

"What'd he say?" Scott demanded.

No one answered him. A large family pushed their way out of the crowd and headed to the stairs leading to the elevator. Several others quickly followed, talking rapidly to each other in French.

Scott scowled. He didn't like not understanding the words.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked back and up to Ms. Vivant. Her face looked worried. Her eyes darted to the shape in the sky. "We should go. We can come back later."

"Why, what is happening?"

"Someone called Venom is threatening Paris!"

The crowd at the bottom of the stairs waiting for the elevator milled around impatiently. Scott had no wish to join the group. They wouldn't be able to get down the elevator for several more trips anyway.

A streak of black out of the corner of his eye had Scott leaning against the safety mesh. A ripple of response went over the crowd. The shape circled the black helicopter, exchanging rapid volleys of fire. Scott started grinning, recognizing the shape, especially the wings.

Scott pushed into the dwindling crowd. He wanted a better view. Nothing was going to stop him from watching his Dad take out Venom.

~xoxoxoxoxox~

"The authorities have not responded other than calling out their military. No monies have been deposited. I've heard the PNA has informed the French Government that someone is on-hand to help deal with the situation, and they should not interfere with the efforts," Ortega Mendus said over coded satellite radio.

Miles scowled, letting loose with a volley of laser fire at the annoying flying car. "It seems our Paris friends need a little incentive. Vanessa, give them a reason to listen."

A deep throated chuckle came over the radio in answer.

An explosion rocked the helicopter, throwing him against his safety harness. The window on the right side cracked.

Miles fired his last missile after the vehicle as it curved down and away.

"I'm almost in position." Vanessa announced.

"Then take care of it!" Miles yelled.

He pushed the stick forward and dove after the car, determined not to lose his tactical advantage. The heat signature of the car's exhaust glowed brilliantly in the targeting display. There was no way the moron would escape him this time.

A missile shot out from the undercarriage, homing in on the twin bright spots of heat. The other vehicle stayed true to its course, heading straight for the river.

Mayhem pulled up, but chose to hover and watch. He wasn't going to miss this victory.

The car and the missile reached the river simultaneously in a bright flash of red and blue. Water and chunks of ice hurled through the air. Out of the far side the vehicle flew free.

The vehicle arced up and fired before Miles could react more than to howl in anger. He banked the helicopter. A flash of red light blossomed from behind the cockpit.

The helicopter shuddered. A motor somewhere behind him squealed in protest before it went silent. In the silence the oil pressure dropped rapidly.

Automatically Miles sent the craft into auto-rotation, using all available power and momentum to slow the fall. The harness bit into his shoulders and chest.

"I'm going down!" he shouted.

"I see you!" Dagger responded just before the helicopter slammed into the river.

Water and ice splashed up over the cockpit windows. The cracked window shattered, allowing frigid water to rush into the cockpit. Air left his lungs as it struck his skin. Pinpricks and firebrands danced through his legs as the cockpit quickly filled.

Miles ripped at the harness lock with one hand, his other trying to pull the transmitter out of its seat. The charging unit around the transmitter shorted out in a shower of sparks. Muttering under his breath, he let it go. His mask kept a rapidly growing stale bubble of air around his face even while the level of the water filled the last of the cockpit space.

With his body free, he grabbed at the window frame with both hands and heaved himself out against the force of the water.

Breaking the surface, Ice fragments knocked into him from all sides. He struggled through the water. The freezing temperatures struck straight to his heart and made it difficult to pull in a full breath of air. The air filter on his mask whistled as it fought to provide him with air while still partially immersed in the water.

Miles clambered, slipped, and slid over the broken chunks of ice. A rope slapped down into the water next to him.

Looking up, Miles saw the hulking shape of a masked Dagger on the shore in front of his SUV. Miles grabbed the rope and let Dagger do the hard work of pulling him in. He glanced back at the roiling bubbles and plumes of water from the sinking helicopter.

Speed. His next helicopter needed more speed.

~xoxoxoxoxox~

"I have him, but the transmitter is lost," Dagger announced.

Vanessa glared through the window of the SUV, running a small car off the road and into a storefront. So close to so much money only to lose it. Her bad track record the past year continued unabated. This must change, and soon. She wouldn't stand for anything else.

Her eyes went to the sky where a black car circled. Her fury burst into full flame. They would pay dearly for this.

"I'll meet you at the rendezvous point. I have a job to finish first," Vanessa said. Her foot pressed down on the accelerator. Her hand moved to the red button on the steering wheel.

~xoxoxoxoxox~

"Monsieur Scott, it is time to leave. The elevator will have room the next trip," Ms. Vivant said, pulling at his arm.

"But I want to see the fight," Scott complained, holding firm to the railing even as the cold of the metal seeped through his gloves. The sight of the flying car captivated all his senses, finding the graceful way it flew through the air hypnotizing. Oh, how he wanted to fly in it, too.

"You can see from the ground. It is not safe up here," Ms. Vivant said.

Ms. Vivant screamed as sparks exploded from below them. The tower shuddered, and Scott grabbed hold of the railing even tighter. The structure shook again in another shower of sparks near the other support beam.

Scott saw a large black vehicle with a laser turret on top in the road below. As it sped by the tower, the turret turned and took another shot, hitting the same support beam again. A resounding groan filled the air. Scott felt the ground moving beneath his feet.

In a sudden jerk, the observation deck tilted. Scott found himself thrown against the railing and safety mesh. The ground below suddenly came into full view as he felt himself slam into the railing. The safety mesh held him firmly.

Another creak from above gave a moments notice before the safety mesh fell away. Scott let out a cry as he flipped, holding onto the railing as tight as he could. One hand slipped, but he managed to grab hold of the pattered iron bars just below the railing. His legs and stomach struck two horizontal beams, knocking the breath out of him.

"Hold on, Scott! I'm coming!" he heard Ms. Vivant yell at him. A moment later he felt her hand on the wrist of the one hand still holding the railing.

His heart hammered in his chest as he looked down. Such a long way down. He scrunched his eyes shut and took a tentative breath. No, he wouldn't be afraid like Ms. Vivant's mother. He would be brave, just like Dad.

Scott kicked up with one foot, trying to find something to help push him up.

A high shriek of bending metal preceded another shuddering tilt.


	7. Chapter 7

"We have them on the run now!" Buddy declared, quickly followed by a joyous whoop. He grinned at Matt, "I like the weapon systems."

Matt brought Thunderhawk around to make another pass at the fleeing SUV. The same SUV carrying Miles Mayhem. Through the PNA's local dispatcher, he knew the Paris police had set up a roadblock, but with the weapon systems of the vehicle below them still operational he knew the police would have no hope of stopping them.

As Thunderhawk came out of its turn, the targeting computer homed in on the SUV, while a secondary system focused on a structure not far away.

Matt hesitated. On an impulse, he used the computer to zoom in on the image. His breath caught in his throat. Matt put Thunderhawk into a sharp turn.

Buddy looked at him in surprise as they were pushed back into their seats. "What is it?"

"They hit the Eiffel Tower."

Buddy looked down, "And I see the vehicle that did it. One helicopter down but both ground vehicles are operational."

"We have to let them go for now. Look at how the tower is leaning. This isn't supposed to be the leaning tower of Pisa."

Buddy manipulated the image as they grew closer, "Looks like two support beams were hit. It's actively collapsing. Good grief, someone is on the uppermost observation level!"

Matt glanced down. His heart sank even further. He recognized the bright yellow hat and gloves of someone hanging over the edge of the railing. "And I sent Scott to the Eiffel Tower for safety."

"That's your kid?" Buddy asked, looking up at him in surprise. He looked back down at the computer screen and shook his head, "It's going to collapse before anyone can get to him."

"Which is why we're here."

Matt took one pass by the Eiffel Tower, but the view did nothing to help him come up with ideas. The safety mesh along the entire side had given way. He could see Scott struggling to climb back up over the railing, but the entire top of the tower was collapsing to one side fast.

"Bring us around again, across the area both supports are collapsing," Buddy said suddenly.

"Good way to be flattened," Matt said, as he brought the vehicle around the Tower to the leaning side.

"If we can do this fast enough, we won't have to worry about that." Buddy worked at the computer and targeting system. "Get us within 30 feet."

Matt's shoulders tensed as he slowed the flight speed. He worked to keep the distance constant. As they drew near, Buddy started tapping the outer metal braces with small pulses of laser, the metal turning red in response. The structure above them groaned, a sound Matt could hear even over the engines of Thunderhawk.

As they flew by, he saw Scott turn his head towards them as he kicked and pushed against the Tower. Ms. Vivant had hold of his coat, her other arm holding onto a vertical brace to keep herself from falling over.

"I think that did it," Buddy announced. "Did I mention I love these weapons? Powerful, but you kept the flexibility. Who designed them?"

Matt didn't say anything, to which Buddy sighed heavily. Matt quickly circled back. The upper portion of the Tower stood still. At the breaks in the supports a section of metal steamed in the cold air.

"Good thinking. It should be enough they can get down," Matt said.

He made a wider circle around the Tower. Scott's flailing feet found a footing. Ms. Vivant braced herself and with both hands heaving on Scott's coat he managed to get his stomach over the railing. He fell to the other side.

Matt breathed a sigh of relief.

"Bulldog to Mask Leader, please report," a male voice said over the radio.

"Mask leader?" Buddy asked.

Matt looked down at the computer, flipping a switch while bringing Thunderhawk to an altitude just above the Eiffel Tower. "This is Mask Leader. Go ahead."

"We have two armed SUV's escaping the city. Do we have any other targets out there?" the voice asked.

"Negative, main threat has been neutralized. You'll find the transmission device in the wreckage of a helicopter at the bottom of the river. Prepare for coded transmission of wreckage coordinates," Matt answered.

"Roger that, Mask Leader. Thank you for your assistance. Bulldog out."

Buddy looked at Matt with narrowed eyes as Matt transmitted the GPS coordinates of the wreckage and then severed the connection. He said in an accusing voice, "Bulldog is an office at the PNA."

Matt made another pass around the tower. He remarked, "The weld is still holding. Let's hope no strong winds hit anytime soon."

Buddy shook his head, giving Matt a disgusted look. With Scott and Ms. Vivant now gone from sight Matt turned Thunderhawk away from the Eiffel Tower. Flashing lights along the roads showed emergency vehicles quickly converging on the grounds of the Eiffel Tower.

He landed Thunderhawk in an ice fogbank next to a wider section of the river. The vehicle switched to civilian mode, the doors coming down and the weapons tucking into their hiding places. The color on the hood changed from glossy black to glossy red. The heating system began pumping hot air into the cab, quickly warming the sub-freezing temperatures to something more bearable. Matt pulled off the dark face mask with one hand and dropped it on Buddy's lap.

"How would you know a PNA codename?" Matt asked as he seamlessly entered traffic in one of the busier boulevards.

Buddy snorted, "I'm good at what I do. Matt, what have you gotten yourself into?"

Matt felt a vibration in his pocket. He flipped on the computer, patching the cell phone signal through it.

"Dad?" Scott's voice asked excitedly.

"I'm here. Are you okay?" Matt asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. We just got down to the second level through the emergency staircase. Are you okay? Wait, Ms. Vivant wants to talk to you."

The sound muffled and then Ms. Vivant's excited and breathless voice came over the speakers, "Mr. Trakker, you will not believe what just happened!"

"I can't imagine," Matt said with a bland voice, but grinning at Buddy.

"The Eiffel Tower, it has been attacked! Scott and I are fine, but I see police arriving. Perhaps you should come."

"I'll be right there," Matt said.

He ended the call a moment later. He took the next turn to head back towards the Eiffel Tower. He could still feel the adrenalin rush. He took several deep breaths to calm down.

"You can let me out anywhere along here," Buddy said.

"Don't need a ride back to your car?"

"I'll take a bus. Go, take care of your son. I have business of my own to take care of."

Matt brought Thunderhawk to a stop near a bus stop. Buddy opened the door when on an impulse Matt put a hand on his shoulder. Buddy stopped in the process of pushing himself out, looking back at him.

"If you ever decide to retire from your business, perhaps you'll talk to me about something a little different. Something just as challenging, using your skills to help the world," Matt said.

Buddy smiled wryly. "I'll keep it in mind."

It took several hours before Matt was allowed into the area surrounding the Eiffel Tower. By mid-afternoon the police permitted him access to the police station Scott had been reported to be waiting. The moment Matt walked in and found Scott he enveloped the boy in a big hug.

"Dad, I can't breathe!" Scott complained.

Matt loosened his embrace and helped him pick up the gloves he dropped. His eyes inspected him from head to toe. No bruises to be seen, not even a tear on his coat. Matt smiled.

"I'm just glad you're okay. I hear you had quite the adventure on the third level. Hurt?" Matt asked. Scott made a face and shook his head.

A moment later the local Sergeant himself came out to ask Scott a few questions. Scott listened to the questions carefully, but gave only simple answers. The Sergeant nodded, satisfied, and dismissed them.

Scott looked back at Matt and whispered so softly Matt could hardly hear the words, "I didn't say anything. Promise."

Matt ruffled his hair, "I know you didn't."

Ms. Vivant joined them from one of the other offices, raving, "Most amazing, Mr. Trakker. It looked just like a car, flying! You would be so proud of your son. So brave! Too bad no one knows who flew to our aid. No one saw their faces! Even the police don't know!"

"What a mystery," Matt mused, taking hold of Scott's hand as they went out into the cold.

"Can we have lunch now?" Scott asked.

~xoxoxoxoxox~

"The government promises to have the Eiffel Tower repaired and open in time for the summer tourist season. In the meantime, the rumors surrounding the new terrorist group known as Venom continues to circulate. While their attempts to extort a billion dollars from the people of Paris ultimately failed, a further investigation has shown the threat could have succeeded. A series of operational bombs dating back to World War II have been found and defused and an operational triggering device recovered from a helicopter crash site. The findings have other cities previously occupied by the Germans scrambling to see if they might also have unwelcome remnants from the war. Another mystery centers around the unusual flying object seen in armed combat with vehicles identified as belonging to the Venom group. The only official word as to the identity of the vehicle comes from the PNA, who have acknowledged it belongs to an unnamed PNA-sanctioned specialist group. Requests for further details have been denied."

Vanessa reached over and turned off the radio. She sat back in her chair, cocking her head at Miles Mayhem. "So close. I'll admit, the plan had potential, but in the end what do we have?"

Miles reached into a duffel bag at his feet and tossed a bag across the table to land in front of her. "The bank robberies did succeed. I won't fail again, not with the new vehicles coming online. The PNA car will be blown out of the sky."

Vanessa opened the bag. Inside sat several bundles of high-denomination French and American currency. Good, all previously used and nothing in serial number sequence. She estimated she had before her close to forty thousand.

She closed the bag and leaned back again, "You've now made a very public name for yourself, one that will cause anyone to pause. What do you have in mind for next time?"

Miles smirked, "Curious?"

"When money comes into the equation I always am."

Miles studied her as the whine of a metal drill prevented all conversation. When the sound died down Miles asked, "Just how interested are you?"

"It depends on what you ultimately have to offer."

Miles nodded towards the garage, "A solid group dedicated to making serious money, perhaps spreading a little fear now and again to get across the point we mean business. Money and power are the only things that matter in this world, and I plan to grab a lot of both. This isn't a transitory group. You are either in or out."

Both money and power appealed to her greatly. She'd tired of jewelry heists anyway. She wanted something that would challenge her skills. Vanessa asked, "Is this an invitation?"

Miles nodded, "I need intelligence, people who can think on their feet. Skills you've always been well known for. You would be a good asset to my organization, and I reward good work well."

Vanessa fingered the bag of money for a moment. People had been waiting for them as soon as they crossed from France into Spain. With their escape vehicles safely hidden, they'd then transferred to a warehouse and garage in an industrial complex on the other side of the mountains.

As usual, Miles proved himself a good organizer.

She said suddenly, "I want a better vehicle. The one today had power, but it needs more."

Miles began to chuckle. He pulled out of his bag a thick roll of wide paper. He rolled it out on the table. Vanessa left the money to come to look at it. On the paper were drawn the new plans for a heavier SUV modeled after the popular Bronco. The transformed version showed a larger upper laser turret, heavier armor over the grill and wheels, a stronger chassis, and several additional weapon systems.

"Not bad," Vanessa admitted. Before Miles could react, she reached over and flicked the page to the next sheet. What she saw made her suck in her breath. She tapped her finger on it, "That one."

"Dagger has already claimed it. Wish to fight him for it?"

Vanessa narrowed her eyes. "Dagger is better with a tank, anyway. You really want him up in the air buzzing around you? I'm a better pilot than he'll ever be. If you want support in the air then put me in this."

She could tell Miles was swayed by the argument. Her flying skills weren't in doubt. She smiled to herself. She would win him over to her side. Manta would be hers.

She continued, "Now, about the masks."

~xoxoxoxoxox~

Buddy walked up to the large hand-crafted desk, light filtering into the darkened office through closed blinds at the window. He set the wrapped bundle on the desk. The swarthy man on the other side reached over to pick it up. Carefully, the man unwrapped the folds of cloth. The glitter of the gold and jeweled earrings twinkled in his eyes.

The man smiled, "You did it."

"You hired the best," Buddy said simply.

The man set down the bundle and opened a desk drawer. He reached over and put several bundles of cash in front of him, "And I pay promptly. Thank you for returning them, they are priceless."

Buddy picked up the bundles and slipped them into a large pocket on the inside of this jacket. He didn't bother counting it. He'd done his research on his client and knew every dollar would be there.

"I have a colleague who has need of your talents," the man started to say, "Similar situation: an irreplaceable item taken from their home at a gathering. If you wish, you can work through me."

Buddy shook his head, "I appreciate the thought. However, I am now retiring from the business."

The man started, repeating in disbelief, "Retiring?"

"Yes. I have family obligations to take care of. I intend to have a very boring life from this point forward."

The corners of the man's mouth tilted up, "Boring? I cannot see this holding you for very long."

"I can be very determined when I choose to be. I would appreciate it if you would quietly spread the word."

The man inclined his head while looking down at the earrings, "Family obligations I understand. I wish you well in your new life."

Buddy quickly left. He took his time with the money deposits and other efforts to hide his tracks. He hid his custom car in its usual hiding place, ready for use the next time he was on the continent. He didn't find anyone tailing him.

A week later he stood in the international airport in Rome, Italy. No disguises or fake names. This time he traveled as plain "Buddy Hawks". Only one ordinary person among the hundreds of passengers waiting for their flights.

He managed to sleep a little bit on the flight to the United States. He rented a car to get to his father's ranch, at which point he returned the rental to a nearby branch. His father looked surprised to see him, but didn't press where he'd been.

Buddy spent two days at the ranch, helping the old man with general repairs. His father didn't say much, but Buddy could feel him continually glancing at him with a confused expression on his face.

At a Sunday dinner it came to a head.

Garret Hawks set down his fork after devouring a meal of steak and home-canned vegetables, "What are you doing here, son?"

Buddy took a sip of water before answering, "I'm home for good. You have plenty of things around here that need fixing. A working ranch can always use an extra hand."

"The Doctor says my heart is fine. The pacemaker is doing its job."

"It's not just that, Dad."

His father looked around the tidy kitchen, "I recall you as a youngster. Always under a car, always getting into trouble. The ranch wasn't big enough to hold you. What makes you think its big enough now?"

"You need help, Dad. You can't live alone any longer. So, now I'm here." Buddy answered. He should feel thankful it took a few days for the conversation to come up. No matter, he was determined to stick it out.

"Sheila might have something to say about that."

Buddy looked up in surprise, "Sheila Hamilton? From the square-dancing club?"

Buddy's eyes narrowed as Dad's weathered cheeks blushed, "And still dancing circles around the young'ins."

Buddy eyed him suspiciously. "Dad, are you trying to tell me something?"

He sighed, looking at Buddy with a sheepish expression, "I was thinking of poppin' the question."

Buddy started grinning, "You old hound-dog."

Father pointed a finger at him, "And that means it's time for you to make a place of your own. Not that I approved of you roving all over the world, up to who-knows-what. But, you need your own space! Find it!"

Buddy grinned.

He spent the rest of the week on top of the roof, repairing a few shingles before the next snow storm. He met up with Sheila at the hardware store while picking up a few ranch supplies with his father. The way the two carried on Buddy had no doubt something would be happening between them in the near future.

With snowflakes in the air and Dad and Sheila waving him off, he got into an old weather-beaten truck he'd kept in the barn. Instinctively he headed south, stopping only for fuel and eating breaks.

The sun just dipped behind the Rocky Mountains when he arrived at his destination. Surprisingly, he found the gates open. Buddy stopped in front of a flight of grand stairs. He turned off the engine and leaned up against the steering wheel. He studied the looming building. A mixture of architecture gave it the appearance of old-world charm along with the efficiency of modern design. Lights shined through several of the ground-floor windows.

Reaffirming his decision to himself, he pushed open the truck door. Climbing the stairs, he rang the bell.

The door opened almost instantly, a young boy calling out from somewhere deeper in the house, "Is the pizza here?"

Matt Trakker stared at Buddy, opening the door wider. Neither said anything as they each sized each other up.

Buddy took a deep breath, and plunged forward, "What did you have in mind?"


End file.
